


Finding Light In The Shadows

by DodgerBear



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Coming Out, Ian in a coma, Loosely set S3, M/M, Mickey keeps a secret vigil, angst with a nice ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DodgerBear/pseuds/DodgerBear
Summary: After a robbery at the store Ian is left in a deep coma. Mickey hides in the shadows and watches over him, and finally realises he’s in way over his head.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 30
Kudos: 233





	Finding Light In The Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> A departure from my usual fluff and hearts and flowers, but I hope you enjoy the slightly more angsty vibe. It’s been good to channel some of my negative energy into this one-shot and leave my other stuff light and fluffy!
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading. As always I’d love to hear what you think 🧡

He hid in the shadows, careful not to let anyone see him. He should have waited longer to come but since he’d heard the news from Mandy earlier that day his skin had crawled with something he’d never felt before. Like fire ants crawling all over his body. He couldn’t stay away any longer. 

It was late. The corridor was dimly lit and quiet. He’d been hiding behind the wall, masked by the vending machine, for nearly four hours. His legs ached from standing. The base of his spine was on fire. His feet were numb. But the fire ants had gone away, so that was something at least. He crept along the corridor and stopped at the small window to the room, holding his breath until his lungs burned in protest. 

There he was. 

At the far side of the room and tucked under crisp white hospital sheets. His flame red hair sticking up in all directions. The breath he was holding escaped in a pained whistle when he saw the scrapes and cuts and bruises that littered his body. He couldn’t breathe with the injustice of it all. Mandy didn’t know the magnitude of the grenade she’d thrown that morning when she ran from the house in a panic because she’d heard on the Southside grapevine that something had happened. Something bad. Something bad had happened to the only person in the world that didn’t deserve bad things. He still didn’t _know_ what had happened. He couldn’t ask Mandy. Why would he want to know what shit was going down with some kid Mandy hung around with? His family were oblivious to most things in his life but even they would notice if he was asking questions about things he had no business giving a shit about. So he waited. And waited. When he couldn’t wait any more he came to the hospital and waited and waited again. Now he was alone with his thoughts and beeping machines and the clinical stench of bleach. 

“I’m sorry. Visiting hours are over.”

He flinched at the voice and cowered away. He was embarrassed by his reaction but the smile he got from the night shift nurse soothed his burn. 

“Are you family?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a friend. And maybe _that_ burned most of all. 

“He’s heavily sedated but you can sit with him for a few minutes if you like.”

Maybe she saw something in his face that made her pity him. His eyes welled up a little and he blinked it away. 

“Nah. It’s okay. Just wanted to see him.”

She nodded once and edged away slowly. She spared him another gentle smile and he wondered if those smiles were part of nurse training school. 

“Take your time.”

Mandy hadn’t been at the house when he got back at the ass crack of dawn. He didn’t know where she was. He’d hoped he would see her so she would let her mouth run and spout off about what had gone down the day before. With no hope of getting answers he crawled into his bed and closed his eyes while he waited for sleep to claim him. He buried his face in his pillow, hoping to catch even a slightly lingering hint of Irish Spring soap. It was long gone. 

“Wake up, assface.”

He jolted upright in his bed and nearly collided with Mandy’s face. 

“What?” 

She perched on the edge of his bed and sighed heavily. She’d always had a flair for the dramatic. That flair was the reason he was in this god forsaken mess in the first place. This seemed deeper somehow. Her eyes were red and her face streaked with tears.

“I’m scared.”

He gulped down some air. Her words hit him in the face like a punch. His immediate urge to snap at her to get a grip fell away before he could form the words.

“What the fuck for?”

Mandy picked at a tear in his sheet so the fabric frayed worse than it already was and he felt a stab of annoyance go through him. He didn’t have nice things but that didn’t mean she had to make his bad things worse.

“That he doesn’t wake up.”

He flopped back into his pillow so he didn’t have to look her in the eyes. If lying was an Olympic sport he would absolutely be gold medal standard, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

“What happened anyway?”

She burst into tears. Heart-wrenching, guttural sobs that twisted his inside into knots. His hand twitched on the bed beside her. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand. To share her pain and her fear. Because he did. He felt it as deeply as she did but he didn’t get to show it. He wore his mask of indifference like a suit of armour. It protected him physically but emotionally he was left to suffer beneath it. He let a groan escape him. When had he become so melodramatic?

“Robbery at the store. He tried to stop them taking the money.”

His stomach churned and bile rose in his throat. He closed his eyes but that only brought an image of the event to the backs of his eyelids. Of _course_ he’d tried to stop. _Of course_ he did. Stupid, noble and heroic to the bitter fucking end.

“That’s fucked up.”

She sniffed loudly, swiping her sleeve across her nose. The noise was grotesque.

“They just kept going. Even when he was on the floor. They kept going. Why would they hurt him like that?”

He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say. Nothing could justify what had happened. It wasn’t the kind of thing that should happen to anyone, let alone him.

“Say something!”

The rage inside him bubbled over and he jerked back to look at her. His sister. His flesh and blood and the creator of all his problems. His eyes screwed up tight in fury.

“What, Mands? What do you want me to say? You know as well as I do, people around here don’t care about people like him!”

She whipped her head back like he’d struck her, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“People like _him_? What does that mean? You think he deserved a good beating because he’s _gay_?”

His hand snapped out before his brain could engage and switch off the signal. His fingers closed around her upper arm and squeezed. She cried out in shock and tried to pull away from his grip.

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

Her eyes were wide and she trembled. His internal rage never overtook him like this with her. It was reserved for street fights and bar brawls. For junkies who owed him money. Strangers who crossed his path and pissed him off. Never his sister.

“You’re hurting me!”

He shook her until her teeth chattered and squeezed until he was sure he would leave permanent tattoos of fingerprints on her skin.

“People like him means the same thing as people like us. Poor. Bottom of the food chain. We’re plankton as far as everyone else is concerned. They hurt him because they don’t give a fuck about plankton, Mandy. He’s the lowest of the low. Just like us.”

He released her arm and shoved her away from him. She cowered away and glared at him through wet eyes.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

He chuckled darkly and shook his head, moving to turn away from her so he didn’t see the hurt in her eyes. He faced the wall and let the tears fall, the ones that had been waiting for him to lose it so they could sneak out and make him feel like even more of a failure. He should have been there to protect him. He should’ve shown him how to protect himself. Not that fake ROTC shit. Real life protection. He should’ve told him. Just once. Told him that he wasn’t the insignificant speck of dust that he always made him out to be. He heard Mandy leave his room. The lump in his throat tightened. He wanted to call her. To apologize. To atone for his mistakes and ease her suffering. But he didn’t. He never would. He was selfish like that. If he was suffering, the whole world could suffer. The whole world could burn for all he cared.

He didn’t wait as long this time. He watched until the older sister and youngest brother left. They were scared too. He could see it on her face especially. He remembered hearing stories about how the sister became the mother of the family. How she ran the house and made sure they ate and went to school and washed every day. He remembers feeling sick with something like envy that _he_ was loved by someone so much that they would give up their own budding life to care for him. But he deserved it. _He_ deserved that love and care. _He_ deserved so much more than the hand he was was dealt at birth. They all did, but him more than anyone else. With his deep laugh and Hollywood smile, he was the glimmer of light in an otherwise pitch black world.

He waited until the coast was clear and went to his window. He peered through the glass and felt his heart sink to his boots when he was presented with the same sight. Wires. Tubes. Machines. Crusted blood. Bruises in every color of the rainbow. No sign of life. His breath turned into a cough that he had to fight down the need to scream at the top of his lungs until everyone woke up, including _him_. Including the dead.

“You don’t have to stand out here every night. You can sit with him.”

It was a nurse. Not the same nurse as the first night. She seemed the same though. She understood something in his presence that made her soften. To accept him being there at the window night after night. Just waiting. She was one of three nurses on a rotating shift pattern that turned a blind eye to his blatant disregard for the rules. The day he was met with someone who made him leave was the day he would lose his mind. And probably his liberty.

“He’s still covered in blood. It’s been two weeks and he’s still covered in blood.”

She looked at him curiously. He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t exactly Mr Presentable in his baggy jeans and ragged tank top. But she didn’t know. She didn’t know that _he_ was always well turned out and clean. He never looked anything less than perfect. To see him covered in his own days old blood just wasn’t right. He would never allow that to happen.

“We’ll give him another bed bath.”

Another? His mind tried to comprehend what that meant. They already given him one? There was so much blood and debris that this was what he looked like after he’d been cleaned up? Jesus.

“Or you could do it...”

His head whipped to the side to look at her. He scowled deeply, the ache behind his eyes pounding at his sudden movement.

“Me?”

She smiled calmly and shrugged as she returned her gaze to the window.

“He might prefer it.”

A bitter chuckle deep in his throat bubble up and came out like he was choking.

“You know what? I am not sure that he would.”

Her dark eyes turned suspicious. It was like a veil came down and her softness turned brittle. He knew what she was thinking. It was a common thing for the perpetrator to return to the scene of the crime. Either to revel in their handiwork or to torture themselves out of guilt and remorse.

“I didn’t do this to him.”

He should’ve added the word ‘directly’ to the end of the sentence. He didn’t do this to him _directly_. Indirectly, he was as guilty as the robbers. He should have been there. Standing next to him. Protecting him. Instead he was hiding like the coward he was while it happened.

“Then you should be in there instead of hiding out here every night.”

Her words were meant to challenge him. To make him feel silly and go inside the room. To make him face up to the reality of the situation. But that word, that one word. _Hiding_. It incited something in his core that set fire to him. Didn’t she understand how much he tortured himself over that word already? That pane of glass wasn’t going to hide him from anything. He was hiding from far bigger demons than what lay beyond the glass.

“Who the fuck asked you?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demarcation of the end of their conversation. He was done with all of it. The twisted emotion in his chest that suffocated him. The guilt. The fear. The pretending. What was it all for anyway? Who was it for? It didn’t make him feel any better about his choices. Walking away from the single good thing in his life made everything else feel worse. His father was still the same. It wasn’t like he got a nice big thank you from anyone for leaving behind his sole source of happiness. Now he was left with this crippling feeling of loss and regret as well as dealing with his asshole father. Who the fuck was benefiting from that?

“You drink coffee?”

He glowered at her. She clearly didn’t get the memo when his whole demeanour screamed at her to fuck off and leave him alone. Instead, she smiled brightly.

“I’ll bring you a cup.”

Two nights later and he couldn’t live with it anymore. For the first time since he started his nighttime vigil, he instigated conversation with the nurse on duty.

“Ay. Why hasn’t he been washed yet?”

She frowned at his barked demand. She hadn’t expected him to speak when she passed him at his window.

“We don’t have a full roster in this week.”

His temper flared and he stared at the brown crusted patches on otherwise pale, perfect skin.

“Get me the fuckin stuff.”

The nurse turned and he knew she was hiding a triumphant smirk. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

“Why isn’t he awake yet?”

Coffee Nurse stopped beside him and followed his gaze into the room. She plainly couldn’t understand why last week he cracked up enough about crusted blood enough to get in the room and then this week was back to his sentry post at the window.

“Severe cerebral trauma. It’s not uncommon for people to take some time to come out of it. The brain is a wonderful structure. It knows all the best ways to protect itself from permanent damage.”

That was hopeful. He didn’t cope well with hopeful. It left room for a world of disappointment.

“So he’s definitely gonna wake up?”

She sighed heavily and looked him in the eye. It was unnerving. He shook his head firmly and turned back to the window.

“Forget it. I know the answer.”

Mandy couldn’t work out where he disappeared to every night. He knew it was bothering her. When she asked him, at least once every day, he brushed her off and told her to mind her own business. It was easy to see something was off. Usually when he disappeared all night it was because he was sneaking away to rooftops, getting strung out on booze, drugs and sex. He would come home in the early hours with a buzz and displayed all the signs of a hangover the next day. Now, all he displayed were signs of sullen moodiness and exhaustion.

“Are you on something?”

She was leaning on the fridge while he poured himself some coffee. Her bottom lip was chewed to ribbons and her icy blue eyes were clouded with concern.

“Like what?”

He was being deliberately obtuse. He knew she meant hard drugs. The kind that changed people. Changed their personality and their habits and their whole life piece by shitty piece. She’d noticed the changes in him and had attributed it to the only reasonable cause. He didn’t know if it bothered him that she would jump to that conclusion. Why wouldn’t he sink that low? It was certainly more understandable than the real reason.

“I’m not on anything.”

It was said lightly but left no room for argument. And it was completely true. He hadn’t so much as rolled a joint in the month that he’d been keeping a vigil for someone he wasn’t allowed to know.

“Good. I don’t have the capacity to worry about you as well.”

He walked away then. He took his coffee and went back to his room. Away from his sister. He couldn’t bear to look at her.

It was easy to remember the change in the tide. When his life changed from repressed to suppressed. He’d spent years denying to himself that he was different. So he looked a little longer than necessary at male underwear models in Mandy’s magazines. So he went to the public pool just to hang out a hell of a lot for someone who couldn’t swim. Nobody knew why and he avoided suspicion like he avoided fists and bullets. Then one day it all changed. Mandy sent him on a beat down mission and his target was some local hood rat with hair the color of a September sunset. He’d never had a ‘type’ before. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t know. He had certainly never been able to say that gentlemen did, in fact, prefer blondes. But it all became clear when he chased down and got close to his target. He got a hard on for taunting him. Stealing from the store right under his nose so his green eyes flashed and his nostrils flared with irritation gave him a thrill that could only be replicated by pushing further and further every time they crossed paths. Stealing the gun was upping the ante to new levels and led to a fall out he could never have predicted. A gunshot wound and a stint in juvie amounted to nothing compared to the grand fuck up that came with feelings being tossed into the mix. That was a fuck up of catastrophic proportions. But even then he couldn’t stop. Even being locked away and promising himself that when he was released he wouldn’t even glance in the direction of anything remotely red in color meant nothing when he got out and saw him standing there with Mandy. Glorious sunshine, the crisp air, the knowledge that his sister looked safe after living pretty much unsupervised with their father...and _him_. It was a heady combination. If he thought he could stick to his own promise, he was very much mistaken. He knew that he was fucked when they went to the dug outs. That sealed his fate. Just as he was starting to accept that, just as he was allowing himself room to breathe around all the feelings he previously left untouched...

If anything happened to him that couldn’t be reversed. If he never got to see that dumb grin or hear that deep laugh again. Well. He didn’t know what he’d do.

It was a close call. He thought the coast was clear. Nobody was allowed in after visiting was over. He only made it because he snuck in during visiting hours and hid until everyone was gone. Peering through the glass he saw a figure at the bedside. It was the older brother. The smartass who tried to take the beating that wasn’t meant for him. He jerked away before he was seen and darted down the corridor to the safety of his vending machine.

Coffee Nurse was on duty and saw his pitiful display. He wasn’t gaining any cool points that day. She left him alone and returned a few minutes later with a paper cup of black coffee and two Oreo cookies. She’d never asked if he took milk or creamer. Somehow she just knew he liked it black.

“Have you ever told them I come here?”

Her eyebrows danced in amusement. She was older than him but not by much and yet she was so much more of a contributing member of society that he could ever hope to be.

“I got the feeling you didn’t want them to know. Don’t know why, though. You obviously care about him.”

“You think that’s all there is to it?”

“No. I think there’s a lot I don’t know. But I do know you’re here every night, hiding in the shadows so nobody knows. And I don’t think it makes you feel any better.”

His silence filled the space between them like a thick fog. He wanted to step away. Run away, even. He wanted to be anywhere this conversation wasn’t happening. But he was also drawn in. In the last week he’d probably spoken to three people. A total of probably twenty words. That wasn’t normal. Not even for him.

“How long will he be like this before...?”

There was no way in hell he was finishing that sentence. Not waking up wasn’t an option he could allow himself to consider. Because, really, where would that leave him? How could he go back to how he was before? There was no denying it now. Not really. At least not to himself.

“I don’t know. His brain is showing signs of activity. He’s alive in there. We just need him to wake up.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. When he’d been cleaning off the blood it was like he was touching a wax model of the person he knew. The skin that was usually so warm, almost hot, to the touch and silky soft and littered with freckles. Perfect skin that responded to his touch in sinful, beautiful ways. It broke him even more to discover that was gone.

“Studies show that patients in a deep coma can hear people talking to them. It can help with their cognitive responses. Some have even attributed it to them waking up.”

His eyes darted to hers and he gaped at her. She smiled warmly and he didn’t want to admit that it settled his jittery nerves.

“When he’s alone. Obviously.”

He felt like an idiot. It was the eighth day he’d been in the room. Talking. No touching, just talking. He couldn’t touch the waxy skin and not remember when he touched it for the first time. He talked about Mandy most of the time. Retelling stories of their misspent youth growing up in a house that was actively trying to harm them. His voice was strained and sound other-worldly to him. Like someone was in the corner of the room narrating his thoughts.

“Mandy could do with you waking up now. She’s struggling. Turns out you’re her only friend. Real friend, I mean. The only one who gives a shit about her. Don’t think I ever realized that before. How much she relies on you. So, yeah. Wake up for her maybe.”

The next night the brother was there again. Coffee Nurse told him it was because he was working another job to support the family and didn’t get off work in time for visiting hours. They let him sneak in for a quick visit. That left him hovering behind the vending machine for an hour until he left.

“I went to the store today. They’ve replaced you already. Some puny kid. Can’t even work the register yet. And yeah, I know what you’re thinking. What do I know about using the register since I never pay for my stuff anyway. Very funny, asshole. Anyway...”

He tried to think of things to say to fill the silence. His brain screamed in agony. It was a previously under-used muscle and now here he was trawling through the archive just to find a story to tell someone who probably couldn’t hear him. Frustration licked at him.

“Wake the fuck up! You’re the talker, not me. If it was me lying there I’d be awake weeks ago just to shut you the fuck up. Why aren’t you waking up? Mandy needs you. Your family needs you! I need...”

Yup. Even now he couldn’t say the words.

“I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up and tell me who did this to you so I can go fuck them up.”

Three weeks. Three long weeks. He wasn’t sure he had anything left to say. He’d covered the golden years of growing up Milkovich-style. He’d recapped all the reasons he wouldn’t cry when his father finally got what was coming to him. All that was left was the stuff that he’d never articulate.

“Was this your plan all along? For me to run out of things to talk about so I’d have to talk about my feelings? Well, joke’s on you, asshole. I don’t have feelings.”

He was arguing with an almost-corpse. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Fine. You win. You wanna hear me spill my guts all over the floor for you? You want that? Fine.”

He inhaled a sharp breath. He filled his lungs with enough air to calm him down.

“I miss you. You’re an annoying, hyperactive, over-sensitive, self-absorbed asshole but I miss you. You’re not just Mandy’s only friend, okay? I don’t got anybody to talk to. It’s your fault. I never needed anybody before. I was fine with keeping it all in my head. I was gonna manage just fine until I could get away from here. Take Mandy and run. That’s my big plan. Stick around until nobody would come looking for us. And you just had to mess it up, didn’t you? I knew you’d be trouble but you got under my skin anyway. And I let you! How dumb am I? How fucking dumb am I for thinking this would be easy? That I could just have my fun and then walk away. I wouldn’t be surprised if you planned all this just to get me back.”

His breathing was erratic as the words came tumbling out. He had to stop to calm himself. The machines continued to beep their melody. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. It was reassurance that he was still alive.

Mandy bumped into the asshole brother when she was picking up groceries. She’d grilled him for information and passed it on while he was staring at the tv and pretending she wasn’t there.

“What is _wrong_ with you? I just told you the doctors are saying he might have brain damage and you’re just watching Ice Road Truckers like it’s a normal day!”

He glanced sideways and looked at her coldly. He loved his sister more than anyone on the planet but he needed her to read between the lines and shut the hell up. His brain raced with ways to hurt her so she would leave him alone.

“How will they know the difference if he _is_ brain damaged?”

It worked. She threw a cup filled with cold coffee at his head and ran from the room. Victory was bittersweet.

“I keep thinking about telling Mandy.”

The machine beeped in response. He was almost, _almost_ , crazy enough to think he heard a different beep for different responses. That was most certainly a confused beep. He heard it and his mind translated it into the mumbled “huh?” he had received countless times in the past.

“I know it sounds crazy. Once it’s out there I can’t take it back. Once she hates me she wouldn’t be able to un-hate me. But I feel like my head is about to explode. You’re usually there to take my crap when I need to vent. But I gotta say, you’re not communicating as well as you used to.”

An indignant beep. Translation? A huff of annoyed breath.

“But I’ve been thinking about what happens next. With you, I mean. My original plan isn’t gonna fly now. Running away with Mandy was all well and good when I didn’t have you to care about. So I’ve been thinking. Different scenarios. It’s fucking up my head.”

A curious beep. A murmur of ‘ _tell me more_.’

“First off, you don’t make it. Mandy will cry rivers and talk like she’s the only one suffering. I’ll know different, of course. So maybe if I tell her now she can find a way to forgive me and we’ll have each other. I’ll have someone for me too.”

An irritated beep. A growling ‘ _shut the hell up, idiot. I’m making it._ ’

“Not my preferred option either, dumbass. Second scenario is you make it but your mental capacity is the same as a potato. There’s no way Mandy will skip town with me if you need someone to wipe the drool off your chin. She’s gonna be there to take care of you. And I guess, if I’m honest, I wouldn’t wanna leave you to her mercy. So if I tell her now maybe we can take care of you together.”

A very aggravated beep. An angry ‘ _you’re getting on my last nerve now_.’

“Which brings me to my final scenario. You make it. You’re all present and correct in the upstairs department. We wait it out like I always planned and then when the time comes we skip outta here. The three of us. Together. I’ll have to tell Mandy so she knows why your ginger ass is tagging along.”

A dumbfounded beep. A slack-jawed, silent stare of a beep.

“Yeah. I know. You’re not gonna leave your family behind. Not for me.”

Mandy was waiting for him when he got back from firing at cardboard cutouts under the train tracks. She was bouncing from foot to foot.

“He opened his eyes!”

His stomach swooped like he was going downhill on a rollercoaster. He schooled his features to be neutral when really his heart was racing in his chest.

“So?”

Which was obviously his way of saying ‘what does that mean?’

“So he’s responding! He might wake up soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe. Lip said the signs are good.”

“Oh. First name terms with that goon now, huh?”

Mandy mastered her glower at an early age and had perfected it every day since. She flicked his ear until he flinched away.

“I just mean it’s looking more positive.”

He took a deep breath. His body trembled as the words formed on his tongue. He’d spent three days thinking of his three scenarios and decided at 4 that morning that he needed to clear the fog in his brain once and for all. He needed to confess all to the one of only two people in the world that mattered to him. And then he needed to tell Mandy.

“I need to talk to you.”

Mandy’s curious gaze reminded him so much of their mom that he nearly cried. He was free falling now. No turning back.

“Tomorrow. I need to talk to you tomorrow. Something I gotta do first.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiled at her. It was a little twisted but it was a smile.

“You’ll have to tell me.”

“You opened your eyes, asshole. What does that mean? You awake in there? Can you hear me? Alright, tough guy, this is it. Your last chance. I’m telling Mandy everything when I go home. This is your last shot at waking up and telling me not to do it. I don’t know if any of my plans are gonna work out but I can’t keep it all in my head anymore. So if you don’t want me to tell her you need to wake up now.”

A taunting scoff of a beep. An ‘ _are you kidding me?_ ’ A laughing beep. A ‘ _that’s all I ever wanted_.’

“I need to tell you something too, I guess. I know I wasn’t there when you needed me. I hate myself for that. But I wanna be there from now on. I can’t be out. Not like you. Not until we clear of this town and away from my dad. I can’t negotiate on that. But I care about you. That’s it, basically. I care about you and I wanna make this right. So...yeah.”

A sentimental beep. A beep that in human form was reaching out and touching the glass and not getting barked at to stop. A reach for a kiss that didn’t lead to threats of tongues being cut out.

Mandy had been silent for a long time. Too long. The longest consecutive period of silence in her life since birth. She stared at him with arctic blue eyes that didn’t blink. Finally, _finally_ , she spoke. And it was not what he was expecting. 

“You kept that in your head all this time?”

He nodded, eyes moving to the floor and zeroing in on a spot marking the carpet. It was blood. He remembered the day about five years earlier when Iggy smacked him in the face with a baseball and his lip exploded. Then Terry split Iggy’s lip for making a mess on the carpet. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“At least I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

Her scoffing dismissal hurt. But then the truth did that, didn’t it?

“How long? How long have you felt this way?”

Her question didn’t make sense. He’d just told her when it started up. How it started up.

“I mean, how long have you known you’re gay?”

He flinched at the word. Which, really, was pretty much as ridiculous as it gets since he just came out. Maybe part of this whole process was to get more comfortable with the terminology. Wouldn’t that be a sweet little side to all of this, if he changed from a self-loathing closet case to an out-and-proud rainbow queer? The idea made a bubble of amusement rise in his chest until it forced a smile.

“How long have you known you’re straight?”

“Touché.”

“I’ve always known I wasn’t like Iggy and Colin. Thank fuck. I just didn’t make a big deal out of it. You know what being...like that...in this house means.”

Mandy gave a bitter laugh and reached to take his cigarette out of his hands. She inhaled it deeply and blew it out slowly, her face reacting to the burn in her lungs before passing it back.

“So was he your first? With a guy, I mean.”

His face got warm as the blush crept up his neck to his hairline.

“Not talking about that stuff with you.”

Her light giggle made him think he’d escaped unscathed.

“I’m still pissed at you for not telling me. And him. You both suck.”

He rolled his eyes in defeat at her pun and shrugged in acceptance of her accusation.

“Think he’ll leave with us?”

“Nope.”

She bobbed her head in agreement. There was no chance. And he could understand that. If he had a family who loved him and cared about him, like a family should, he wouldn’t be in a hurry to skip town either. He certainly couldn’t hold it against him. Wouldn’t, even. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell when the rejection finally came.

“So what now?”

He took a deep toke on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the cup beside his bed. He cast a wry smile at his sister.

“Well that’s not really down to me, is it?”

Now that the decision was made and the truth was out there, to one person at least, he found that nothing really had changed. The world still turned in its axis, the day gave way to night and the gunshots could still be heard ringing out in the Southside. Terry hadn’t heard his whispered confession and taken a knife to him the way he imagined he would. Sometimes, when he was a kid, he actually believed that his thoughts were so loud that Terry might hear them. Obviously that wasn’t true. But he still managed to find other ways to disappoint his father to the point of violence. He just needed to hold on. Bide his time. Once Mandy was old enough to fly under the radar with DFS they could get out and not live in fear of being dragged back. They could get on a bus and travel in any direction. Find somewhere Terry wouldn’t be able to find them if he stuck a pin in a map and decided to go looking for them. Somewhere they could get jobs and a place to stay and build a life in their own skin. One that maybe _he_ would want to be part of, if he ever woke the hell up. It was a fantasy. A pipe dream. Who the hell would want to hitch their wagon to him? Definitely not a 16 year old with everything going for him. But it was done now. The path had been paved and now he was walking down it. Head held high. Sort of.

It was nearly midnight when he made it to the hospital. Much later than usual but his confession to Mandy had brought on a peace that he hadn’t felt for a long time and he had fallen into a deep sleep. When he woke up he made his pilgrimage to the hospital and looked around carefully. He was hoping for Coffee Nurse. She was his favorite. Or maybe Pony-Tail Nurse. She was sweet and kind. Crocs Nurse was his least favorite, because who the hell wears Crocs? The corridor was clear so he made his way to his home away from home - his window into the other part of his life.

The room was full. Gallaghers were crammed into every available space and he couldn’t see the bed. He couldn’t even make out a flash of red hair that steadied him more than he would ever be able to explain. He tried to keep to the shadows but it was too fascinating to look away. He could hear the noise they were making from his vantage point outside the room. God knows how anyone could sleep through that racket. But then he remembered who he was talking about. The same guy who once fell asleep on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse building and was still there fourteen hours later, almost prompting a search party.

“He’s awake.”

Crocs Nurse. Goddamn it.

“Couple of hours ago. Place has been swarming ever since.”

He felt a stab of indignation on the Gallaghers’ behalf. She had no idea what any of them had to go through just to make it to the end of the week. Before he could say anything she spoke again, softer this time.

“He’s got a lot of people who care about him. He’s lucky.”

His silence was his agreement.

“You want me to tell him you’re here?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head wildly. He absolutely did not want his presence to be known. He had things to sort out. Things to say. But not to anyone in that room other than _him_.

“Okay. I’ll get you a coffee and a cookie. Just black, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and he wondered vaguely how she knew that, since she wasn’t Coffee Nurse. He turned back to the window and tried to catch a glimpse of anything that would settle his nerves. Things that he didn’t even know how to explain. How could he tell anyone that seeing _his_ hands, long fingers and calloused palms, made him feel safe? Who would understand that a flash of orange/red was enough to make the near-constant jitter of his pulse relax enough to let him get some rest? He didn’t understand his own physical reaction to it all. He would never be able to find the words to explain it to anyone. Except. Maybe _him_?

The door to the room opened and one of the brood stomped out, muttering under his breath about the cafeteria only having leftover slop at this time of night. He darted to safety to his spot behind the vending machine so Lip didn’t see him when he passed. He moved back to the window and saw the door was still open. He could hear everything being said inside the room.

“I don’t know what he’s saying.”

“He’s not making any sense.”

“It’s all mumbles.”

“Do you think it could be brain damage?”

“What did he say?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. His heart raced as his temper rose to boiling point. He knew exactly what the problem was and it was physically paining him that they couldn’t see it. He didn’t need to understand mumbles or even see his face to know what was going on. When someone has touched your insides with their insides, figuratively and literally, it meant you know that person better than they might know themselves. It was a bizarre thing, really. For someone who could use his body in ways that meant you couldn’t be closer, _he_ really hated to be crowded. He was tactile. He was affectionate. He was a horny bastard. He would hug a stranger if it made them feel better. But _he_ hated, beyond all measure, feeling suffocated and hemmed in. And that was exactly what was happening here, trapped in a bed with nowhere to go and no comprehensive way of articulating his feelings.

“He said back the fuck up and give him some space!”

It wasn’t a conscious choice to burst into the room and yell at the top of his voice. But his body had been betraying his brain for months now so it wasn’t exactly a surprise to find himself in the middle of the room with a band of disgruntled Gallaghers staring back at him.

“What the hell are you going here?”

It was the oldest one. The girl. Fiona? Fuck. Now that this was an actual thing he was going to have to pay attention when _he_ talked and actually learn this shit. Lord, deliver him. He sent a prayer up to any God who might be listening, hoping these people would understand the danger he was putting himself in and act accordingly.

“Move out of the way.”

The Gallagher Sea parted. His eyes flickered to the bed and he was met with the brightest smile he’d ever received in his life. Somehow, deep down, he knew it was all going to be worth it. If he could manage to stay alive and keep everyone he loved safe, it would all be worthwhile.

“You came back.”

“Course I did.”

“I thought it was a dream.”

Crocs Nurse appeared in the doorway with a coffee in her hand and smiled at the group. If she noticed the crackling tension in the room she ignored it completely.

“No cookies in the break room tonight, I’m afraid. You’ll have to make do with a coffee.”

He felt all eyes land on him when he took the paper cup, murmurs of confusion whipping around him.

“Thanks.”

She nodded her acceptance. With a sweeping glance around the room she found Fiona’s eyes and smiled warmly.

“Well now that the night shift has arrived I guess you can all go home for the night and get some rest. Come back in the morning.”

A warmth crept up his neck and face. He could see everyone trying to process what they were seeing and getting a Code 404 in their brains.

“Night shift?”

It was the red-headed girl Gallagher that spoke. She looked stranded between worlds and unsure how to proceed.

Crocs Nurse looked him dead in the eye before she spoke. He wasn’t sure he was prepared for what she was about to say but he stood firm. He was all in now. Apparently.

“Hardest worker on the team. Shows up every night for no pay and a cup of crappy vending machine coffee. So, it’s getting late. Time to clear out and let the patient get his beauty sleep. Visiting starts at ten in the morning.”

It seemed like everyone is the room was about to comply, albeit in state of dazed confusion. Until Lip returned. He walked in and nearly dropped the handfuls of snacks he was holding all over the floor.

“What the hell? What are you doing here? Get the fuck out of here before I...”

A choking cough filled the air. Everyone turned to the bed and Fiona stepped closer, ready to mother and smother in equal parts.

“Lay back down.”

_He_ was furious, glaring at his visitors venomously.

“Leave him alone.”

The silence was lethal. Finally the deadlock was broken by Fiona making the first move. She ushered the younger kids out of the room and shoved Lip out after them, snarling at him to wait outside and then closing the door firmly. She reeled around, hands on hips, and looked between the remaining two people in the room.

“I’m not even gonna pretend to know that this is so you’re gonna have to explain what the fuck I’m seeing here.”

The prone redhead was struggling to focus his eyes so he had to step in and do some talking. He wondered idly if this was his life now. Uncomfortable situations with people he didn’t like, who didn’t like him, all in the name of being with this lanky streak of piss who could barely stay awake when his whole life was burning down around him.

“You really need me to spell it out?”

Fiona’s stare narrowed on him. It caused a flicker of discomfort in his chest but he would be damned to hell and back if he let her know that. His expression remained blank with only a challenging quirk of his eyebrows.

“ _You_?”

His eyes rolled at her. He glanced at the reason he was doing this in the hope of a rescue. _He_ was asleep. Mouth hanging open slightly and sighing soft puffs of breaths while he was left to deal with this steaming pile of turd. Thanks dude.

“Yes, me. You think your brother is the only guy in Chicago who likes dick?”

Fiona jerked back and stared in disbelief. It was pretty difficult even for him to grasp that this was happening so it must be quite the mind bender for her. He cut her off before she could voice the opinion he knew was coming.

“No, it’s not common knowledge. Yes, my dad will kill me. And him. No, I’m not exaggerating. And yes, I know what it means that you know about it now.”

Fiona nodded, glancing back at the sleeping sibling she thought she knew everything about.

“How long?”

“A while.”

“You love him?”

“Not going there with you. That stays between me and Sleepyhead.”

The small smile that licked her lips confirmed Fiona’s understanding. She nodded again.

“Here every night, huh?”

He shrugged with something like indifference but his blush gave him away. She just nodded once more. It was infuriating.

“Well I guess he’s in good hands. I’ll leave you two to do whatever it is that you do.”

_He_ didn’t wake up again for nearly four hours. When he did it was heart-wrenching to see him try to sit up and look around, only to flop back and cry out in pained exhaustion.

“Stay still, idiot. You’re all messed up.”

Green eyes went wide with panic until he recognized his voice and closed his eyes in relief. He licked his lips, which should not look so hot given the circumstances but totally did, and opened his eyes.

“Cat’s out of the bag.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Help me sit up?”

He moved to the bed and slipped his arms under bony elbows. The weight loss was noticeable immediately, weeks ago, but it was more of a shock to feel first hand the deterioration of the muscles mass and strength. He pulled him up into a more upright position and he still looked awkward, but smiled happily in thanks.

“Why’d you do it?”

The plastic chair scraped loudly when the dragged it across the floor to the bed.

“Thought you were gonna die.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

“Would that not have worked out better for you?”

His temper flared once more. Not with _him_. With himself. How did he still think like that when here he was, doing this? How could he be standing right in front of him after confronting his family and still think he would prefer him dead? He did this. This was his fault entirely. All the times he swore that they could never be more than their secret. All the times he told him that he was just a warm mouth, or words to that effect. He’d chipped away at the person he should have been building up and it was all just so disgusting to him now.

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. Of course I don’t think that.”

Silence washed over them. It wasn’t awkward. They could say all they needed to say through secret looks and tiny facial tics, a skill they’d honed over time with little conscious effort.

“So where are we going?”

“What?”

“When you leave with Mandy. Where are we going?”

“You heard all that?”

It was a surprise his response could be heard over the thumping of his heart and the swooping butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah. So what’s the plan?”

“How about we see if you can walk first, tough guy.”

A dry laugh and a burning glare told him exactly what the redhead thought of that idea.

“Fuck you, I can walk. Tell me. I’m not leaving my family if you don’t tell me where I’m going.”

“New York.”

A tired but excited smile graced his lips and he nodded in agreement.

“New York it is.”

“You don’t have to pretend to make me feel better, Red. I know you won’t leave your family.”

The familiar green eyes sparkled with determination. Even though he was bone tired and ready to sleep for another ten weeks, he still managed to make his point known.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

“Guess so.”

He tentatively reached out his hand and placed it on the back of the curled up fist resting on the bed. With a gentle twist he prised open the fist and entwined their fingers, nervously checking for a reaction as he chewed on his bottom lip. When it came, the brightness of the smile lit up the room. It was a relief to feel warm skin again.

“Don’t ever scare me like this again.”

“Don’t plan to.”

“I mean it. Don’t. I can’t take it.”

“I know.”

“Because...you matter to me. Even though I don’t ever say it. I know you know. I know I’m not that good at hiding it from you. You’re important to me.”

“I _know_.”

Tears streamed down his face but he just let them go untouched and held on tight to the hand in his grasp, his vision blurring until all he could see was a green and red haze.

“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless it’s with you.”

He wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded wildly in agreement.

“I love you, Ian.”

“I know. I love you too, Mick.”

The End.


End file.
